It begins...

[willyousee]

Your pardon, everyone.

[A calm, cultured voice speaks firmly across the psychic network, cutting through the babble.]

If everyone could please check in, perhaps we can determine who is infiltrating and who is investigating. Please especially speak up if you arrived outside of the room of clothing racks. Has anyone met one of the infiltrators yet?



((OOC: This is open to anyone and everyone! If the thread is not marked as private, assume it's a public conversation. You are allowed to threadjack at will!))

Comments

[willyousee]

[So you really were an acrobat, then, Nightwing.]

It doesn't seem as if there are any performers, unless they are all sequestered in one of the locked areas. Which... if this is a party of sorts, it seems strange that there would be none available. Are we meant to be the entertainment?

[turbedon]

Not sure... it all feels a little too uptight to be the case. There's also no way I can manage any type of performance in this et-up.

[willyousee]

Unless we are meant to play instruments, perform a play, or sing instead, yes, I agree. There ought to have been someone to direct players should that have been the case anyway. A distant possibility, then. I should very much like to find a library, or a newspaper like there was in Austin. There is no internet here, I expect?

[turbedon]

Nope, tried it. Got no signal. It all feels a bit... off. The clothes make me think of people from maybe four to five hundred years before my time but at the same time, the tech they've got is... Hm. Not precisely 'modern' but definitely too advanced to be from then. So I guess this isn't my Earth, again.